


The Waiter

by thomasclementine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Diners, Alternate Universe - Human, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 14:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2352047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thomasclementine/pseuds/thomasclementine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean goes to the diner in the town of the week for a burger and pie. He can't help but wonder why the waiter looks so familiar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Waiter

Dean strode into the diner down the street from the motel of the week confidently, hoping he didn't look too out of place. Most days he didn't shy away from attention, but he felt a little vulnerable with Sammy back in the room sick, and the attention of these conservative, small town people that would probably not take kindly to a drifter in a leather jacket with a gun in his pocket. Smiling towards the hostess, he quickly nodded towards the counter where he seated himself. This was his favorite place to be, really. No matter which city, no matter which state, almost every diner in the country had these counters where friendly waitresses in aprons smiled at you and brought you slices of pie with extra whipped cream. When they were kids, whenever there was a little extra money left at the end of the week, he'd take little Sammy to a diner and help him order what he wanted while the waitresses cooed over his dimples and chubby cheeks. Sam might have outgrown milkshakes eventually, but the memory never became less fond.

He glanced down at the paper menu every few seconds but was really trying to absorb the scenery. Teenaged couples in the striped booths by the windows shared fries and made heart eyes at each other. An elderly couple sat on the same side of their booth, watching cars go by as they waited for their orders. Businessmen and women on their lunch breaks sat alone at the counter, smiling appreciatively at their orders being delivered but otherwise keeping to themselves. The waitresses hurried around, looking the picture of professionalism in pale yellow shirts and white aprons, sometimes glancing at each other as if they all shared a secret. The only cook, a large man with stubble on his face, hummed a tune Dean had never heard in the kitchen. Other than him, there seemed to only be one other male working in the diner: the dark haired waiter chopping lemons on the other side of the counter. Dean watched him work for a few minutes, fascinated by the most interesting person behind the counter. His hair curled at the nape of his neck and could probably use a trim, but looked soft and cared for. His yellow uniform shirt's sleeve barely hid a tattoo on his right arm.

Before Dean could actually decide what he was going to order, having only spent about a minute looking at the menu and seven seeing everything else, the waiter strode over to him with a sheepish half-smile on his face. “I'm sorry sir, I didn't notice you there. I'll be your server today, what can I get for you?”

Dean willed himself to snap out of his trance, slapping on his trademark smile to cover up the fact that he hadn't thought about his order at all. After asking for the burger special of the day and a double slice of cherry pie for desert, the waiter smiled at him, laid out napkins and silverware, and turned to get the order in to the cook. Watching his perfectly rounded behind walk away, Dean realized why he had been so fascinated by him: they'd met somewhere before. They absolutely had to have met sometime, Dean was sure of it. He just couldn't figure out where, or when.

Waiting for his order, he tried to catch glimpses of the mystery waiter's tiny name tag, but he spent twenty minutes a resolute failure. It wasn't until one of the other waitresses came behind the counter and said “So hey, Cassie, how's Amelia doing?” that he was given a clue.

But, Cassie? Had to be a nickname, right?

When the waiter came back to his side of the counter with an armful of plates, he couldn't help but to ask. “So...Cassie, right?”

To his surprise, the waiter didn't reply with another name right away, or wave the joke off. He just blushed deeply and said, eyes cast downward, “Hello, Dean. Actually, you know I prefer Cas.”

Suddenly, it all came back. Afternoons spent over a lab table, Bunsen burners, and textbooks. Shy smiles and doodles in the margins of notebooks. Skinny wrists. Messy, dark hair.

Cas, _Castiel_ actually, had been his lab partner, at a school Dean only attended for three months. They had been a great pair and he was the only person Dean ever really had an intelligent conversation with while there. Cas never seemed to care about anything to do with social life. He liked biology and poetry and was a member of the debate team. Dean had gone to one of his debates once, and sat in the back of the room. He'd smiled at Dean right before delivering the zinger that won the argument.

And now here they both were, together somehow again on opposite sides of a table. In a different state, years later, but the same people.

“Cas, man! Why didn't you say anything? I just...didn't recognize you before” Dean finished lamely, although truthfully.

Cas bit his bottom lip, fidgeting with the saltshaker on the table. “I'm sorry, Dean. To be honest, it's just...” He took a deep breath, then continued, still looking unsure of himself, “I didn't want you to think less of me. It's been years since we left high school and the first time you see me I'm working as a waiter. I love my job. But I didn't want you to think I never worked for my goals.”

Dean was momentarily taken aback by this confession. Even though it had only been a minute since he realized who the waiter was, he would never think badly of Cas or anyone else for working in a diner. But he understood why Cas would be afraid of judgement. People in small towns like these weren't always so understanding and open minded.

He slapped on another smile to look reassuring while having an internal meltdown. Maybe he never would have admitted it in high school, or afterwards, or now, but he had had a wild crush on Castiel all those months. So the panic was warranted. “Don't worry about any of that, Cas. Hell, I never even finished high school. But go on, tell me about the rest of your life. I want to hear it.”

The warmth bloomed within Dean's chest as he ate and listened to Castiel talk about his life since high school. He'd written and published one novel and was working on another. He was a counselor on his off days, mentoring middle school kids going through bullying. He had a daughter named Amelia. 

It wasn't hard to remember why he'd been so wild about Cas back in chemistry class at Polk High School, since he was starting to feel exactly the same way now, years later, as he ate the last bites of the cherry pie. By the time Dean had paid his check, written both his email address and his cell number on the back for Cas, and smiled at him on the way out of the diner, he felt the warmth seeping into the rest of his body and his logical head a million miles away. He was crazy about Cas. He'd just never wanted to admit it so badly until now.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration for the plot from a tumblr post written by underbellamy!


End file.
